August 31, 2007

I "met" Carl V., owner and author of the very fine blog Stainless Steel Droppings last year when I joined his R.I.P. reading challenge.

The R.I.P. reading challenge spans a two-month period in which participants are challenged to read books that fall within the horror or gothic genre/subgenre.

Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I didn't successfully complete the challenge–though I did read The Phantom of the Opera and something else (that I can't remember. Doh!). 

But this year–this year I'm going to do it! So here's my list of the four books I'm going to read for the R.I.P. II challenge:

1. Poltergeist by Kat Richardson

2. Road to Hell by my dear friend Jackie Kessler (Advance Copy. W00T!)

3. The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfeld

4. The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, or something by Ann Radcliffe (The Mysteries of Udolpho, perhaps). Or maybe I'll reread (shhh!) read something by my favorite gothic authoress, Barbara Michaels.

So if you want to join in (Carl has some great prizes, and those who complete the challenge will be entered to win them), pop over to the RIP II challenge page and sign up. The challenge officially starts tomorrow.

August 31, 2007

I, like many, many women of my generation, woke early on the appropriate day to watch the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. It was, indeed, a fairy tale come true.

I also remember the day she died, as I'm sure many of you do.

I was walking into the grocery store–I guess it was a Saturday morning, and it was fairly early–and I happened to glimpse a newspaper headline through the window of one of those paper vendors. I think it said something like "Princess Diana in Serious Condition After Car Crash" and then below it "Her boyfriend dies, the Princess is hospitalized."

Little did I know that by that time, she'd already been declared dead herself. I hurried through my grocery shopping and when I got home, got on the Internet and found out the rest of it.

I was, of course, saddened. Even my Music Man was upset, and I remember watching television with him and seeing all the flowers around Buckingham Palace.

My parents were actually traveling through England and Ireland at that time, and they witnessed first-hand the amazing displays of grief everywhere they went.

The one thing that kept me from being completely depressed was that I harbored a little secret. One I hadn't even yet told my Music Man.

One of the reasons I went to the grocery store that day was to get a pregnancy test. I was pregnant with my second child!

Later that weekend, after sitting on the news and smiling quietly to myself about the little baby growing inside me, I told my husband over dinner.

It helped both of us lift out of our grief for a woman we'd never known.

Odd how that sort of thing happens–that attachment to public figures we've never really known, except through their carefully constructed image. 

August 30, 2007

At dinner last night, my middle-school-aged daughter was chattering on about how much she loves country music (sorry, but *groan*….that's the one kind of music that just doesn't work for me), and how she wants her dad to listen to this song by Kenny Chesney.

My Music-Snob of a husband said, "I don't listen to music by anyone named Kenny."

And I looked at him and started laughing. Because that's sooo true.

On one of our early dates, I think someone had invited us to a concert that included Kenny G. I thought Music Man was going to die with all that sax going on (I wrote *sax* not *sex* and you know it.)–he just can't stand Kenny G., and that song they play all the time.

(Which song? I don't know. They all sound the same to me. The one with the crooning sax.)

So then we started naming off other Kenny musicians, and there were quite a few of them–all of whom my snobbish MM despises:

• Kenny G.
• Kenny Loggins
• Kenny Rogers
• Kenny Chesney

Sheesh! What is it with Kennys and the cheese?

But I can't point any fingers, because I'm a closet Barry Manilow fan myself. (And yes, that is the second time I've admitted that on this blog.)

So, 'fess up: which music/musician are you a closet-fan for? 

(And can someone put the whole gay question to rest for me? Is he or isn't he?) 

August 29, 2007

Here it is again, Readers Ask Wednesday. Today I'm going to answer Danielle's question, but first let me warn you that her question contains a spoiler for Rises the Night.

(Before I get to that, let me remind you that I accept reader questions at questions at colleengleason dot com, and I pick one to answer every week. Sometimes more. If I answer your question, you get entered in a contest to win an advance copy of my next book.) 

So, anyway, if you haven't read Rises the Night, stop reading here.
Come back tomorrow. Please.

Okay, so if the rest of you are with me, here's the question:

In Rises the Night, did you plan on having Victoria's Aunt Eustacia be killed or was it just something you thought of as you went along. Also, will it have a impact of Victoria in the next novel?

Lovely question, thank you, Danielle. And how astute you are to have picked up on the fact that I don't always know (in fact, really rarely do) what's going to happen until it does.

In fact (don't mind me if I digress for a moment), there's really only one thing I know for certain that's going to happen in the five books I have planned about Victoria, and that's who she is going to end up with, romantically.

Other than that–nope. I don't even know if Lilith will be vanquished by the end of Victoria's story.

So, anyway, to answer your question: when I started thinking about Rises the Night (which at the time was called simply Gardella Two), I realized that Aunt Eustacia probably had to die in order for Victoria to be able to spread her wings.

It happens all the time, the mentor dying: Obi-Wan, Brom, Dumbledore, Gandalf, etc.–and in this case, I thought it was very important for Eustacia to let go of the reins and to allow Victoria to take on her responsibility. Plus, Eustacia had led an extremely long, valuable, full life, and even though Kritanu mourns her, she was ready to go.

So, while I did know that she wasn't going to make it through the end of the book, what I didn't know was how it was going to happen until much further along. 

As far as having an impact on Victoria in The Bleeding Dusk, yes indeed. She has to take over as Illa Gardella, and for the first time, there's no one (eg, Eustacia or Max) as a filter between her and her duty.

August 28, 2007

The other night, I was engaged in the social activity of playing euchre.

My card-playing partner (not my Music Man, for reasons that are obvious to anyone who is married) and I were kicking some major patootie–we'd already won the first game, 10-1, and were well on our way to winning the second (8-1) when the worm turned.

Or so spaketh one member of the other team. 

I'm not sure the turning of the worm had actually happened before he pronounced it, or if by his announcement, the worm really did turn–but either way, after that it was all downhill from there. I won not another game that night. Ugh. (8-10, 5-10, 9-10)

So during the game, when I was still confident that the worm's direction had no real bearing on my game-playing skill cards, I blithely asked, "Does anyone know where that phrase came from: the worm has turned."

Many suggestions were bandied about, helped, no doubt, by the amount of fermented grape drink and/or squashed hops that had been imbibed, but no one knew for sure.

One suggestion was that when it finally rains after a long dry spell, the worm "turns" as it comes up out of the ground.

Another suggestion was that Worm was the name of some sports figure who had lost many games and finally won one. (Can you tell I was surrounded by male members of the species?)

Another person thought that perhaps since a worm can burrow from either end of its body (is this true?) that it could change direction underground and basically reverse itself.

But no one knew for sure. So, I of course had to look it up, and I found the answer easily enough. I'm going to post it below in a dark font, so to read it, you'll have to highlight it with your mouse.

But first…give it a shot. Where do you think the phrase came from?

And, I gotta know–does anyone outside of Michigan play euchre? Do you even know what it is?

Okay, here's the answer to the trivia question:

THE WORM TURNS - "Someone previously downtrodden gets his revenge; an unfavorable situation is reversed. The saying represents an evolution of the old proverb, 'Tread on a worm and it will turn.' The meaning was that even the most humble creature tries to counteract rough treatment. Shakespeare picked up the thought in Henry VI, Part 3, where Lord Clifford urges the king against 'lenity and harmful pity, saying:
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
The smallest worm will turn being trodden on,
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.'"
"The Dictionary of Cliches" by James Rogers (Ballantine Books, New York, 1985).